Slings and Arrows
by A Crazy Elephant
Summary: A reaper listens to a summary of the last of her life and her death from her next job. Loosely based on the show. Rated for language.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Would I be writing a fanfic if I owned Dead Like Me?

**Slings and Arrows**

That bastard. That fucking bastard.

He actually expected me to take that soul.

After sixty odd years of reaping, releasing souls of countless unfortunates, it no longer bothers me. A few of my coworkers see our job as basically murder. I don't think so myself. We're not killing them, they'd all die with or without our help, but we save their souls from years of aimless wandering. That's my take on it all anyway.

But this; how can they expect me to take this soul? Because it's my job, of course. What a clichéd reason.

I'm in the park now, still brooding on the Post-It in my hand. I see him on a bench near the pond, one of my favorite spots in all the city. He looks much older than when I last looked in on him. His hair is all white now, thinning with a large bald spot that finally claimed his hairline across his forehead. His face is thinner, with more wrinkles and worry lines than ever. But he's still Wilfred.

I take a seat on the bench next to him, trying to focus on the family of ducks quacking about on the banks.

"Something the matter?" He asks me. I shake my head in a lie.

"I'm waiting for someone," This is true.

"Oh?"

"My brother," I say, this time only telling a half lie. Oliver has been like my brother since we became reapers, always looking out for me, keeping my sorry self out of trouble.

"Brother eh? Older or younger?" Same old Will, cheerful and talkative as ever.

"Older, bya year," This also happens to be true.

"Ah, you know, I had sisters myself, one older by two years the other younger by two years," He continues happily.

"Did you?" I say with half interest.

"Janie and Catie," He nods.

"What happened to them?" I ask, but I all ready know the answer.

"The War," He says. His cheerfulness is dulled somewhat. "Got caught in the middle of the German raid on Coventry," He pauses. "November 14th," Another break. "It was Catie's 19th birthday," His voice is sad now. "And Janie had gotten engaged only the week before,"

"That's terribly sad," I say, swallowing hard. It's one thing to brood about your death and that of loved ones alone in your home, but it is entirely different to hear them voiced aloud by another.

"It is," He nods. "Catie had come home from London the day before for Janie's engagement celebrations and her birthday. She was one of the best dancers in all England. Studied at the Royal Ballet," He brags. "Janie was fresh out of university and well on her way to becoming one of the top solicitors in Coventry,"

"Do you miss them?" I ask, glancing once at his face then down at my watch.

He's quiet for a time before he nods. "Every day," He breaks off again before perking up. "What about this brother of yours? What's he like?"

"He's a prat," I say. This is also true. As kind and protective as he is, Oliver has a tendency to be a right git sometimes. "We're having lunch together. Finally took the time to pry himself away from his computer long enough to get out into the sunlight," With university out for the summer holidays, Oliver's taken it upon himself to learn the ways of a computer above and beyond typing programs and internet porn sites. Wilfred nods as the clock tower chimes noon. Oliver appears on the other side of the pond. He waves.

"There he is," I say, standing. "It was a pleasure talking with you, Mister-" I break off.

"Random. Wilfred Random," He holds out a hand.

"Catie," I say, shaking it. "Catie Random," As I release his hand, I release his hand. I turn to head down the path and I can feel him staring at me. He recognizes me. I know it. I still look exactly as I did the day I died. During the war, most of new reapers were allowed to keep their original appearance due to the large number of casualties and the total destruction of everyone that we would have known.

Oliver meets me on the path, halfway between the bench and his former spot on the banks.

"You did well, Catie-Cat," He says, looping an arm around my shoulder. "You did well," We continue to head down the path until the cries and shouts over the death of the lone old man begin to ring about the park. He rose to leave and tripped on a pothole in the pathway, hit is head on the arm of the bench.

Oliver and I turn. Wilfred is standing there watching them fuss over his body. He looks at the spectacle curiously.

"That's interesting," He mumbles to himself.

"Willy!" I call. He turns.

"Over 'ere mate!" Oliver waves him over.

"Catie?"

"Hi Willy," I say.

"You're alive," Wilfred says, stunned.

"Undead," Oliver corrects.

"Und-"

"Come on, Willy," I say, cutting him off. "Walk with us,"

**A/N: Ta da. I felt inspired. Hope you like it. Reviews are loved!**


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